2 Seconds
by ice shredder
Summary: She can't die. He swore he wouldn't lose anyone else. Especially her. Ethan/Nyah. The injection scene. T for safety. RxR. Enjoy!


**Title: 2 Seconds**

 **Author: ice shredder**

 **Fandom: Mission Impossible**

 **Disclaimer: same old stuff, Ethan, his friends, and the IMF don't belong to me. All quotes are straight from the movie.**

 **Spoilers: M:I-2. Ethan's thoughts and reactions before and after Nyah injects herself with Chimera.**

 **Pairing: Ethan/Nyah.**

 **A/N: Honestly the fact the writers dropped the ball on this couple still makes me sore. She's more Ethan's type anyway. No offense people, but I always thought Julia was a carbon copy of her but with lighter skin. Plus there's like zero fics and one shots related to these two, so I'm hoping to start a trend and fix that!**

 **Besides, I think Ethan taught himself new tricks (like lip reading for example) because up till M:I-2's end, he never did that before. Nyah and that mission affected him more than he's let anyone else he's worked with know and this is just my personal take on things, she probably fueled his semi-retirement from the field. And is one of the reasons he never talks about her to his colleagues. Some things are way too private to share and that mission was very, very personal to everyone involved. And I don't think he's fully cut her out of his life (see his reaction to Luther commenting on his relationship with Lindsey Farris), cause yanno, you never forget your first love. And who knows what he does or who he visits in between missions now that him and Julia are basically separated thanks to Ghost Protocol? Makes ya wonder...**

 **On with the story!**

 **Summary: She can't die. He swore he wouldn't lose anyone else. Especially her.**

Everything was supposed to run smoothly. Get in, destroy the virus and vanish without a trace.

Ethan dropped into the heart of Biocyte Pharmaceutical's restricted lab on the 42nd floor. Clad in black body armor with his tech toys and trusty Beretta he landed on cat feet in a combat crouch, anti-slip boots making little noise on the lab's glassy floor. He should've known better. Nothing _ever_ goes exactly the way you want it to.

Unaware of the impending disaster headed his way the master spy moved to the airtight glass chamber housing three petri dishes containing the deadly Chimera virus. _Nekhorvich old buddy...what the hell were ya thinking, creating this monster?_ He thought as he quietly mounted the steps. Unbidden, his mind flashed back to the race track, standing behind Nyah, peering at Nekhorvich's assistant Gradsky through that camera screen.

Lying in a hospital bed with his flesh eaten away.

Bleeding through every orifice he owned.

Dead.

Ethan shunted the disturbing images aside. It was too late to save the two men. But the chance to prevent an unsuspecting world from being destroyed by his former colleague's cold-blooded ambition was here. Besides he didn't have to worry about Nyah. He ordered her to get out of Australia after seeing the footage. No sense putting her in harm's way any longer.

Clean oxygen shushed through his mask's breathing apparatus as he carefully climbed the metal stairs to the incubation pod. Stared grimly down at the three glass wombs protecting the virus from the outside world. Patiently awaiting its suprise release so it could ravage the world.

Ethan quickly typed in a code, then glanced at the monitor designed to monitor temperature changes. Thin heat lasers whirred as they punctured Chimera's crackly black surface. Sure enough the female AI voice began to speak in a calm, insistent voice, warning the lab's lone unauthorized occupant Chimera's seed stock and in vitro PH was outside optimal range.

Ethan stared at the petri dishes, unmoving. Watched with grim satisfaction at the splintering sounds the dread virus was making as it crumpled under the heat source killing it.

 _Gotta love fire. Works like a charm._ Before leaving Ethan attached a black box with a timer to the keyboard he'd just finished using and set the charge.

His legs walked him over to the secure hazard chamber that could only be accessed by a state-of-the-art voice recognition system. He stopped in front of the speaker and pulled a mini recorder out of his field pouch. Fortunately for the spy, he'd brought McCloy's voice along to make his job easier.

 _"John C. McCloy."_

With a soft whoosh the tube's door opened and he stepped inside. An ultraviolet light flashed over his black suit followed by a computerized voice.

 _"Subject is contaninent free. Zero contaniments."_

The door hissed open releasing him into Biocyte's most restricted room, the 42nd floor lab. Soft bluish light and the ever present reflective polished glass panels did nothing to ease the fact this place housed death.

With the same focus he gave the petri dishes Ethan solemnly walked over to the glass box containing the last of Chimera in three stainless steel and matte black injection guns. In the cool dimness of the lab the virus glowed a malevolent red.

Like blood.

 _Like Gradsky's when he succumbed to the deadly virus that literally blew his red blood cells apart. He hemorraged to death, skin melted like candle wax-_

 _Like the 500 doomed souls on Bruny Island-_

Ethan ignored the churning in his stomach when he slipped his hands into the black rubber gloves mounted into the box's bottom that would allow a technician to handle the virus without getting infected. Realizing Nekhorvich had done the same thing mere days ago to inject himself with it only to die for his troubles.

Slowly, ever so slowly Ethan reached over to his right and clasped the first gun's grip in his strong fingers. Making sure it was firmly in hand he repeated the process to his left, this time coming away with a heat cylinder. He pressed it to the needle tip point and pulled the trigger.

A flash of heat and the virus sizzled into nothing. He pulled the second gun from its bracket and fired.

Two down.

Years later, his mind would often drift back to this moment in time. Wondering _why_ he chose to hesitate with that damned third gun. Wondering if he'd _just_ kept focused instead of letting it replay Nekhorvich's pre-recorded words on that tape, then maybe things would be different. Maybe he would've worked up the courage to ask Nyah to marry him instead of Julia. And what was she anyway? Yes he loved his wife but as time passed he realized why he was attracted to her. She reminded him of his first love...but it was a pale imitation next to the original.

But his younger self knew nothing of this. All his attention-or lack thereof-was trained on the injection gun. Then he let his guard down and his mind drifted to the taped words of his dead friend.

 _"However we travel, I must arrive at my destination within twenty hours of departure."_

He failed to hear footsteps heralding the arrival of Ambrose and his men in the lab until the glass shattered under a furious barrage of high-caliber bullets.

Highly trained reflexes shoved him out of the line of fire. Unfortunately he couldn't dodge bullets and keep a hold on the gun at the same time. So he yanked his hands free of the gloves and rolled.

The gun fell to the floor below in a blizzard of broken glass. Ethan swore mentally as he returned fire to Ambrose's men. Bone and blood flew. Sharp cries filled the spacious room. Computer monitors shattered. Papers shredded and blew around in tatters. Pipes burst. Sparks flew. Fires broke out. And in the middle of the growing carnage stray bullets pinged off the final injection gun holding its lethal payload making it skip across the glass-strewn floor.

Ambrose realized the danger they were all in the same time he did and barked out orders.

 _"STOOOOP! Put a sock in it!"_

Thankfully the men stood down, much to Ethan's relief but now there was a standoff.

 _"Hit that bloody gun and you'll spray the virus all over the place!"_

Crouched behind a console with mirrors, Ethan took the break in gunfire to reload his guns. _Now_ what? This wasn't supposed to happen. He stared a hole into his real target lying on its side on the floor but he was too far away. Any attempts to go for the gun _now_ and he'd be dead before he could reach it. So he decided to stall for time and feel out his enemies positions.

 _"Well, there it is guys. The last of it."_

He turned his attention to one of the round mirrors holding Ambrose's reflection.

 _"What was your top bid?"_

 _"Why? Ya gonna make me a bettah offer?"_

He snorted at the question.

 _"Than 37 million pounds? Not really."_

Instead of the shocked reaction he was going for Ambrose smirked. A bad feeling started to collect in the pit of his stomach.

 _"Oh. Somebody has been slipping you our mail."_

He cocked his head, puzzled at the other man's smarmy tone.

 _"Come on out here, you_ _ **bad**_ _girl."_

Ethan blinked. _Girl? What's he-?_

Ambrose raised his gun pointing it right in Nyah's blank face.

Wait.

 _Nyah?_ The room spun on its axis for a moment. _Oh God. Oh God, no!_

It was the Max incident all over again. He flashed back to that tragic encounter with Jim Phelps in a train's baggage car, pointing a gun at his chest forcing Claire, his wife and partner in crime to take the ten million dollars and flee. Taunting him with one of the Ten Commandments.

 _"Thou shalt not_ _ **covet,**_ _thy neighbor's wife, Ethan."_

This was wrong. A bad dream. She wasn't supposed to be here-

 _Why didn't Luther warn me?!_

The answer reared back and slapped him in the face. _The generators were still on! We lost contact for 8 minutes!_

But that small window had given Ambrose the time he needed to storm the building and gain the elevator to the 42nd floor with Nyah in tow as a hostage.

He swallowed down his rising panic, knowing it wouldn't help Nyah if he lost it. Her beautiful face gave nothing away and he thanked God for that small miracle. Anyone else would've been crying or begging for answers but many years spent as a high-end thief had taught her to keep a level head.

 _"Sean. She doesn't belong here. Let her go."_

But Ambrose was beyond negotiating. Even where Ethan crouched weapons at the ready, the rogue agent's disgust, anger and betrayal rolled over him in waves.

 _"She wouldn't BE here, if it wasn't for YOU Hunt."_

He squeezed his stormy blue eyes shut, unable to refute the accusation. Memories of making love to her in a Seville safehouse surfaced. Of a romantic dinner on the terrace interrupted thanks to Swanbeck's unpleasant twist to recruit her as their fourth member. Of her willingness to follow him anywhere after he'd given her the chance to walk away.

 _This can't be happening. It can't...I won't lose her-_

Ambrose's sharp tone sliced through his chaotic thoughts.

 _"From this moment, YOU are responsible for what happens to her...and IF you're looking out for her well being. I suggest you advise her to pick up the injection gun, and bring it to me."_

He listened, helpless as Nyah made her way cautiously down the ramp, white shoes crunching over the deadly shards of glass littering the floor from their earlier gunfight. Unable to block out his enemy's accented voice.

 _"Ball's in YOUR court, Hunt."_

 _No._ His heart gave a painful clench. _It's in Nyah's._

The young woman halted and slowly squatted, slim strong fingers gingerly picking up the gun from its resting place. She held it out in front of her body like one would hold a poisonous snake brown eyes staring intently at the deadly payload while shredded wires spat mouthfuls of sparks behind her back.

Ethan held his breath. Right now the world's fate rested on the shoulders of a civilian. The Luther's voice broke through his radio.

 _"Nyah is in the building. Do you copy?"_

He sighed. _Little too late for that pal._ But he acknowledged his friend's statement with a slightly sarcastic thank you.

 _"How do ya know he won't shoot you the minute he's got it?"_

She didn't get a chance to respond. Ambrose scoffed at his question.

 _"Please. One can't hold Nyah responsible for her actions, you know women mate. Like monkeys they are. Won't let go of one branch till they get a grip on the next!"_

The crude comment earned him a death glare from his former lover. Ethan bit back a snort. _You're not helping your case Sean._ But she still hadn't spoken a word to him since walking into the room. That made him nervous.

 _"Get it Nyah. I'll cover you."_

 _Give her the money Ethan._

Phelps cold, charismatic voice overlapped with Ambrose's hard, clipped tones in his mind. Sean wouldn't hesitate to kill Nyah. Phelps had shot his wife Claire dead right in front of him for God's sake!

But Nyah didn't respond to Ambrose's command. Instead she continued to stand there, and to Ethan she seemed to be waging an inner war. Unfortunately, Ambrose was out of patience.

 _"I'm_ _ **waiting.**_ _"_

Finally after what seemed an eternity she turned and made eye contact with him for the first time since this debacle started.

 _"Things didn't exactly work out the way you thought they would Ethan."_

 _Please don't._ He mouthed, pleading with his eyes with his very soul. Beretta cocked and ready to shoot.

 _"Sorry."_

Then before any of the men could move she snapped the gun's muzzle to her elbow and pulled the trigger.

Ethan blinked completely in shock. Two seconds. That's all it took for his life to change forever. In that moment he realized he loved her.

She threw the gun away, giving Ambrose a small triumphant smirk as he went ballistic.

 _"Bitch!"_

Nyah began edging toward his position keeping her eye on Ambrose as he tracked her with his gun. Ethan yanked a marker-shaped detonator from his wrist gauntlet.

 _"You're not gonna shoot me Sean. Not THIS bitch. Cause she's worth 37 million pounds!"_

He pressed the top and a high-pitched whine filled the air. Just before the bomb went off he darted out and grabbed Nyah, shielding her with his body. A welter of glass and flame exploded outward. Alarms blared. Guns started firing. Ethan kept a tight hold on Nyah as he fired shots at several black and grey forms, scoring a hit as he blew a man's knee apart, causing him to tumble over a barricade.

But they weren't out of the woods yet.

Nyah rushed behind a row of giant steel pipes with Ethan right behind her shooting as he went. She slumped to the ground and he spun to face her his own streaked with sweat.

 _"What did you think you were doing?!"_

 _"I wasn't thinking! Just trying to stop you from getting hurt, that's all!"_

For a few precious moments they were lost in their own world. Blocking out the sounds of increasing rapid gunfire of security guards joining the fray against Ambrose and his men.

 _"You who don't have a conscience."_

 _"I guess I lied."_

Her trembling smile broke his heart but he had no time to nurse it. Sensing movement to his right he jerked Nyah upright, protecting her with his body as he sprayed a goon with bullets. But the gun battle was getting worse. Submachine rifles added their angry chattering to the staccato pops of service handguns. Ethan peered around both sides of their temporary shelter cursing internally. Everywhere he looked was total mayhem. He banged on the pipe in frustration and agony.

 _"You can't get us both out of here can you?"_

He shook his head no. The panic-which had been kept in check earlier-surged through his veins with a vengeance.

Then she was pressing the cold steel of his Beretta against her chest, startling him out of his mini panic attack. _Nyah what-?_ He tried to force sound into the words but his fear of losing her constricted his throat so they came out as ragged puffs of air.

 _"I'm infected with Chimera! You know you don't have a choice! Just do it! Do it now!"_

He stared at her in horror. But he backed up a step and pointed the gun at her chest.

 _I can't do this._ He mouthed to her.

She gave him a watery smile. _Take it._ She mouthed back, then closed her eyes.

His hand shook.

 _Nyah!_

Gritting his teeth he yanked a brick of explosives out of his vest and hurled it at the concrete wall. Then he put a hand close to her head, shouting to be heard over the cacaphony of sound.

 _"We've got 19 hours and 58 minutes! I'll get Belleraphon into your system before then!"_

Turning he fired a single shot at the pack, exploding a gaping hole in the wall.

 _"Just stay alive! I'M NOT GOING TO LOSE YOU!"_

Tearing himself away from her grasp, _leaving_ her behind and running towards that hole was the hardest thing Ethan ever did in his entire life. He ran, and ran and ran and then-

He jumped into the night, executed a flip to sheathe his gun and pulled his parachute's ripcord.

 _She can't die._ He swore he wouldn't lose anyone else. Especially _her._ The woman he loved.

 **-end**

 **Reviews make me very, very happy! Hope y'all enjoyed! :)**


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